You're the Only Light I Ever Saw
by highway-salvation
Summary: A typical night on the job goes awry when Sam charges into a fight with a werewolf half prepared, causing Dean some unwanted stress. But, thankfully, it's nothing a little slow dancing can't cure.


_I don't own Supernatural, or any of the songs mentioned in this story._

**Title**: You're the Only Light I Ever Saw  
_**Song**_: "Slow Dancing in a Burning Room" by John Mayer  
_**Characters**_: Dean, Ryan (OC)  
_**Rating**_: T

The lunar cycle had aligned perfectly with the leads they had. Gashes across the body, missing heart, a complete annihilation. They'd stalked the apartment where the man resided, watched closely for any kind of changes once the sun went down. When Sam saw that he'd changed, he charged in unprepared, nothing but his gun in hand. Dean and Ryan followed hastily behind, but Sam wasn't slowing down. He had been knocked unconcious and nearly become the dog's chew toy before Ryan and Dean bolted in, saving the day. But the damn thing was tough, putting up one hell of a fight with both of them. But once he'd found the perfect moment, Dean aimed the gun straight at the mut. He pulled the trigger in a flash, sending a silver soaked bullet straight into its unnaturaly beating heart. It's grip on Ryan released immediately, causing her to slide downward, her back leaving streaks of blood down the wall. He rushed to her, helping her to her feet. He pulled the blood soaked tank top off her back, revealing the three parallel claw marks that went from one end of her back to the other. Ryan hissed as he ran his fingers over the fresh wound, scoping out how deep the gashes were embedded in her skin.

"Maybe next time you can stick with the group, huh? Save us the inconveniece of always having to save your ass?" Dean barked at Sam, who was patching himself up in the motel bathroom.  
The flourescent lighting brought out each bruise that he'd endured in his short battle with the wolf, causing him to wince every time he moved. He'd already stitched and bandaged Ryan's wounds, preventing her from any kind of infection.

"Dean, stop," she whispered.

"No. He should know better than that," he replied impatiently, the volume in his voice raising with each word he spoke.

"He made a mistake. Lay off," she said authoritatively, trying to cut Sam some kind of slack. He had been stupid, but the last thing he needed at that moment was more bitching from Dean. Salt into the open gashes from werewolf claws was the last thing any of them needed.

"Fine..." he said with a shake of his head. "I'm gonna get some air..."

He grabbed his coat, keys, and phone, and started toward the door. She leaned back against the headboard of the uncomfortable bed and sighed. After allowing herself a few moments to breathe, she stood, throwing on a long sleeved black shirt and stuffing her phone into her pocket. Dean's car had yet to start, she would have been able to hear it. He was waiting for her.

"I'm gonna... make sure he doesn't drive too fast. Get too drunk... you know the drill," Ryan assured Sam, giving him a comforting smile when he turned to face her. He gave her a single nod, frustration bellowing through every hard line in his face.

The door of the Impala creaked as she opened it. She slipped into the passengers seat and shut the door behind her, leaning against it. He didn't look at her, he didn't even acknowledge the fact that she'd just gotten in the car. It was so routine for them that no words were needed. He started the engine with ease, and backed out of the parking lot. The entire ride was silent--but it wasn't an awkward silence, not in the least bit. It was a relaxing silence that they both needed.

_**It's not a silly little moment  
It's not the storm before the calm  
This is the deep and dying breath of  
This love we've been working on **_

Joey's wasn't crowded. In fact, it was nearly dead. The neon sign, however, was like a beacon of hope as Dean drove down the deserted back road. He'd pulled into the gravel parking lot and gotten out of the car without waiting for her. But it didn't bother her. She was omniscient to the way he behaved; she knew every face, every laugh, every gesture--she had them all down. Following behind, she opened the screen door and joined him at a corner table close to the bar. She sat across from him, folded both arms and leaned them into the hard wood of the table top.

"So, you gonna talk to me?" she asked over _Hotel California_, which was blaring from the jukebox.

"What do you wanna talk about?" he asked huskily, avoiding eye contact with her.

"I know you're mad, just admit it and trash the attitude," she said bitterly.

Their waitress came to the table, pad and pen at the ready, and sweet smile.

"What can I get ya, kids?" she asked cheerfully, a nice change in tone compared to the bitter, frustrated ones that were coming from Ryan and Dean.

"Two Bud Lights, please," Ryan replied, returning the smile that the waitress had kept on.

"Comin' right up," she said, walking back towards the bar.

The beer was like an antidote for the tension. Dean sighed loudly after his first sip, which lasted longer than the usual. Ryan casually drank hers, but was more concerned with the way Dean was slugging his back like it was water.

"Alright. I get it. You don't wanna talk," she said, taking one last sip of her beer and then setting it onto the table roughly. The _clank_ of the glass against the wood caused him to finally look up, but by the time he did, she'd already left. She was walking towards the jukebox, her hands diving into her pocket in search of spare change. She spent a few minutes looking through the song choices, shaking her head on numerous occasions on the bars lack of good music. Finally, she found a shred of decency in an old Bryan Adams album, and placed her quarters into the slot. The rare sound of the bagpipes at the beginning of _When You Love Someone_ echoed through the speakers, the nostalgic tune brought a smile to her face. She turned to see the same smile crossing his lips, as hard as he was trying to fight it. It no doubt took them back to singing the song at the top of their lungs in the Impala, revealing their odd preference to Bryan Adam's slow, sappy balad. They no doubt drove Sam crazy with their lack of vocal talents, but the memory was one that never ceased to make either of them smile. After he'd finally let the barrier down and let the smile fully appear on his lips, he shook his head, a small chuckle following. She signaled with her eyes and head for him to join her, and he replied with the classic '_You've got to be kidding me_.' look, which made her small smile transform into a grin. She nudged her head again, and he looked around before finally giving in and walking towards her. The lack of crowd no doubt was a big reason for it, but she didn't care. Anything to get him onto the dance floor.

_**Can't seem to hold you like I want to  
So I can feel you in my arms  
Nobody's gonna come and save you  
We pulled too many false alarms **_

He continued to shake his head as he approached her. She was standing in the middle of the dance floor, looking like something out of a painting. Her grin stayed constant as he veered closer, and she let out a soft laugh when he was in reaching distance.

"All the years you've known me... have you ever once seen me dance?" he asked, his eyebrows shooting upward.

"There's a first time for everything. C'mon, you can stand on my feet if you want..." she said jokingly.

"Shut up."

He wrapped his arms around her waist protectively, intertwining his fingers to keep his grip steady. Her arms snaked around his neck, their faces now merely inches away from eachother as the swayed to the beat of the song. The lyrics rang true to them, as lovey-dovey as they were. They'd do anything for eachother, even things that couldn't be explained. Each word that echoed through the speakers brought them closer, erasing all of the havoc that had been wreaked hours before. They were constant. The way they made eachother feel... was constant.

Dean's eyes slowly closed as the song continued, and Ryan's former grin took the form of a complacent smirk. He wasn't half bad, especially for the bowlegged clutz that he was. She thought for sure that he'd have two left feet, but he didn't. He moved smoothly with her as though he knew every step that she was about to take. The wounds on her back were non-existant in that moment, the throbbing pain that she'd felt from the moment she got them slowly dissolving. He opened his eyes for a mere moment to see if hers were closed, and when he saw that they were he, he shut his once again. He returned the smirk, and tightened his grip, pulling her closer into him as they moved. He took her chin in his hand, lifting it up just enough to bring her lips only millimeters away from his. He kissed her then, letting all of the anxiety and frustration of that night find an outlet in her. It was a feverish kiss, causing heat to radiate from the both of them.

When it finally broke due to a lack of oxygen, they realized that they were slow dancing to the sound of clinking glass and sizzling steaks on a grill. The song had ended long before they came up for air.

_**We're going down  
And you can see it too  
We're going down  
And you know that we're doomed  
**__**My dear, we're slow dancing in a burning room.**_


End file.
